


I Come When You Call

by Codeanpendency (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Drunk Dean, M/M, Rimming, Top Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 11:16:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2690867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Codeanpendency
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd known exactly why Dean had called him, he wasn't stupid and by now this was habit. Dean would get drunk, occasionally pretend he was going out to fuck someone else (but he'd always come back in less than an hour), and then he'd call Sam back from where ever he happened to be that moment and use his last moments of coherency, before he was lost to the haze of need, to demand that Sam fuck him until he couldn't remember his own name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Come When You Call

**Author's Note:**

> A very very very late birthday present for my sunshine Ria. I'm so sorry that this is only finished now (three months after your birthday) but I hope it was worth the wait.

Three rings, it never took more than three rings for Sam to answer his phone. Especially when the incoming call was from his brother. Dean knew this - but being aware of your estimated waiting time didn't make whatever you were waiting for appear any faster. It certainly didn't increase Dean's waning reserves of patience as he waited, with bated breath, to hear the only voice he knew better than his own.

He counted out the rings on the half empty bottle of Captain Morgan's in his right hand, clink of silver against glass as he tapped along with the familiar sound: one, two, three-  
"Dean?" the deep, questioning tone of his younger brother finally reached his ear and Dean's lips pulled into a small, subconscious smile as he stared unseeingly into the haze of cigarette smoke still clinging to the stale air in this weeks choice of beat up motel.

"Heya Sammy, you plannin' on coming back any time soon or does Daddy need to come and fetch you?"  
The gruff sound of his own voice was broken only by some decidedly unmanly giggles as he burst into laughter at his own, clearly hilarious, joke.  
A heavily put upon sigh made it's was across the line and Dean could practically hear his little brother rolling his eyes as he asked "Dean you're.. are you drunk? I don't think you're in the state to be comin' and gettin' anybody"

"Not drunk enough" replied the elder Winchester as he lifted the bottle to his lips, Sam's words having reminded him that he still had plenty of alcohol available to make tonight exactly the kind of night he'd been craving ever since they arrived in this stifling, no name town. It was the kind of place where your life could be made or broken by what your neighbours thought of you. From the second they'd arrived endless pairs of judging eyes made it clear that the battle worn, second hand clothes and general scruffy appearance of the two brothers just wouldn't cut it in the town.

"'sides, you know I could drive perfectly even if I'd been marinating in whiskey all night long. Ain't gonna let a little alcohol get between me and my baby".  
"Yeah ,well, whether you think you can drive or not, I don't wanna end up as road kill so I'll make my own way back. Knew you should have left the car here" the sentence tapered off into a murmur as Sam's famous bitch tone made itself known.

"You're the one who wanted to break into the library and do research at this time. Don't get mad just 'cause we don't all get hard for books like you do, baby boy. I had to take the car so I could get back to the motel and do something a little more exciting with my Friday night"  
True, he did have more exciting plans for his night but most of them involved Sammy being there with him, hence why now (only a few short hours after leaving his brother to the library and all it's charms) he was calling the younger man, trying to persuade him to give up on work for the night and come keep Dean company instead.

A few moments of silence met his words but Dean could tell he'd annoyed his brother. He only had to wait a few moments for this to be confirmed as Sam began " You know why I had to come here at night? How would it look, me sitting in here in broad daylight researching-" Sam stopped talking abruptly, audibly taking some deep breaths to calm himself and Dean used the time to take another deep sip of his drink, absently kicking at the empty burger wrapper screwed up next to his foot on the creaky, uncomfortable bed . He contemplated the hunger gnawing at his gut right now, hunger of the kind no amount of double bacon cheese burgers could fill.

He shifted uncomfortably on the firm mattress as finally, Sam began to speak again and this time his low voice held tones of reassurance that sent shivers down his brothers spine.  
"Look, I'm just about done for tonight anyway. I got a little cash, I'll just get a cab back to the motel."  
The slightly put out bite that still clung to the edges of his tone didn't do too well at convincing Dean that Sam was truly 'just about done', but he couldn't find it within himself to feel bad. They both knew how Dean got on nights like this. Sam was well aware of the only reason his brother would be calling.

The smile that lit up Dean's face would have been blinding had anyone been there to see it and he was powerless to stop himself from squirming yet again in his seat in anticipation.  
"Knew you'd see things my way Sammy boy, the library's no place to be on a Friday night. I'll see you in thirty".  
Without waiting for a reply Dean disconnected the call, discarding his phone on the rickety bedside table and taking several deep pulls from his bottle before discarding that too.  
Now that he knew Sam was on the way, the need that had been eating at him only seemed harder to ignore. It was a type of nervous anticipation he could only identify when he looked far back into the foggy memories of life before his Mom's death, like how he used to feel as a little kid on the night before his birthday. He'd waited so long, surely one last night wouldn't kill him. But the closer it got to the day, the harder it was to wait, and the more he felt like he'd explode should the wait not be over already.

Sam was thirty minutes away. Thirty more minutes of this emptiness and then Sammy would be there to take care of him.  
If you'd told Dean five years ago that he'd be spending his Friday nights alone in a motel room waiting for his little brother to come and look after his needs, he would have laughed you out of the room. But now, with the dangerous cocktail of lust and alcohol dancing through his veins, (plus a good number of months to come to terms with the fact that, apparently, when he was drunk he liked nothing more than being fucked until he couldn't stand by his baby brother,) Dean couldn't find it within himself to care that he was acting like Sam's kept woman.

It was all well and good saying that Sam was going to be there in thirty minutes but that was just the time it took to get him to the motel room. Dean ached down to his bones with the need to be filled, stretched open in the way that only his brother could ever manage. Waiting that long would be bad enough even without knowing that Sam, the huge girl, would still make him wait after he got there.  
He'd want to take his time working Dean open properly, muttering about not wanting to hurt him and doing this properly and other shit that, yes, Dean wasn't opposed to any other time (hell he knew enough to be aware that foreplay was more than half of the fun) but on times like this when he needed to be filled so bad he felt like he couldn't breathe without it, it all just seemed like unnecessary waiting.

It was at this moment, as he found his hand crawling steadily to the crotch of his jeans without remembering giving it permission to do so, that a wonderful idea struck him. In life, moments of genuine epiphany are rare and Dean wasn't going to let the fact that they usually occurred when he was blindingly drunk make him write off every single one as a bad idea.  
No, he was sure some of his epiphanies were very good ideas, like this one for instance, and before he was even aware of moving he'd stood up, shedding his clothes eagerly before dropping back down on the bed and groping around under the pillow for the half used bottle of lube they'd shoved there last night as they fell into an exhausted sleep, tangled in each others arms.

If the only reason Sam took so long to get to the main event was because he didn't want to hurt Dean then surely it made sense that Dean spend this time, the time that would have been wasted with waiting and twitching and trying to occupy himself until Sam arrived, preparing himself.  
Lying back against the wall and parting his legs as he clicked open the lid on the tube of lubricant, Dean took a moment to evaluate the situation. He was a hunter and after all it was his job to go into every situation with his eyes wide open, fully expecting every eventuality. This was no exception. He didn't want to do this if it could possibly lead to anything that would anger Sam (for once, annoying his brother was not on the agenda tonight if he wanted to get laid.) However, no matter how many angles he considered this from it was a win win situation.

He wouldn't have to wait any longer to have something inside him, even if it was just his own fingers, and Sam wouldn't have to mess around stretching him when he got there which would lead to both of them getting what they wanted sooner. Perfect - fast and easy orgasms for everyone.  
Self-satisfied grin fixed firmly in place Dean mentally congratulated himself on his genius as he poured a liberal amount of lube out into his palm, warming it between his hands before coating four of his fingers in the thick liquid, muscles trembling at the thought of finally getting some relief.  
Bending one leg at the knee enabled him to get a steady foothold on the gaudy fabric of the threadbare comforter, exposing his hole to the humid air of the room. What he wouldn't give to have a mirror. He bet he made a right picture like this. Maybe if Sam was quick enough he'd walk in to this exact view and well, wouldn't that get things started a lot faster.

Sam on an ordinary day was hot. Sam, mindless with lust, pupils blown to conceal everything but the thinnest ring of hazel, stupid floppy hair sticking to his forehead as sweat begins to bead on his tanned skin and that obscenely pink bottom lip fills with blood, abused by his teeth as he bites down on it in concentration, that Sam is mind blowing.  
When Sam gets like that, he pursues the object of his lust with a single minded determination that would be downright frightening to a lesser man but Dean. Well, Dean wasn't a lesser man and he loved it. So much so that he actively encouraged this Sam to make an appearance just as regularly as his body could stand. He may have suffered all sorts of injuries in his lifetime but nothing could take it out of him quite like being taken apart and built from the ground up again by the person he loved more than anything.

It's of this darker, more dangerous version of his adorable puppy of a baby brother, that Dean thinks of as one thick finger dances over his greedy little hole, teasing, testing, as it clenches around nothing, eagerly trying to draw something inside him and fill the ache that still felt like it was growing bigger and bigger by the second.  
If he'd wanted a tease he'd have waited for Sammy, and so the gentleness lasts only seconds before he's pushing inside, past the first ring of muscle and into the clutching heat of his own body, unable to keep in the sigh of pure relief. There's no point in taking it slow, it's his body and he knows what he can take after all, so it isn't long before a second finger is joining the first, stretching and twisting to make room for something much bigger that was soon, oh Dean hoped it would be soon, to be coming.

He stays like that for god knows how long, seconds blending into minutes as he loses himself in thoughts of Sammy, of finally being given what he needs and having the aching pit of pure want that has replaced his stomach disappear.  
Wanton moans fill the air, clearing aside the foul smell of the lingering smoke and making room for the scent of sweat, for humidity to slowly begin filling the room as the elder Winchester grows more and more worked up. Dean's slipped down onto the bed now, no longer leaning against the wall as he writhes like a two dollar whore, eyes closed as he loses himself in the recesses of his pleasure filled mind.

So lost was Dean that he didn't hear the very sound he'd been straining to hear from the second he got back to the room that evening, didn't hear the clicking of the lock as Sam let himself in, didn't hear the thud of Sam's duffel falling to the floor as he dropped it in shock at the sight before him.  
He'd known exactly why Dean had called him, he wasn't stupid, and by now this was habit. Dean would get drunk, occasionally pretend he was going out to fuck someone else (but he'd always come back in less than an hour), and then he'd call Sam back from where ever he happened to be that moment and use his last moments of coherency, before he was lost to the haze of need, to demand that Sam fuck him until he couldn't remember his own name.

So yeah, he'd known how he was going to be spending his evening. But that had in no way prepared him to come back to the motel room and find this. Dean had never, not even once started without him, and he felt a wave of pure unadulterated desire battle with a boiling kind of rage at the thought that this had been taken away from him.  
He loved fucking Dean, of course he did, there was nothing quite like the feeling of being tucked securely inside his older brother- the tight heat clenching around him as they both finally felt right, whole- but he loved the moments building up to the main event just as much. Getting Dean spread out before him, pinning him down and taking him apart with his hands, stretching him open and working him over until all of his usual cocky banter disappeared and the only thing left was desire.

Dean had taken that away from him, had taken the careful prep out of Sam's hands and now he was going to make him pay. If he thought that preparing himself before Sam got there would get him the quick, thoughtless fuck he was always chasing he had another thing coming.  
Smirk firmly in place Sam attempted to make himself appear as unaffected by Dean's display as possible: relaxing the set of his shoulders, attempting to make his gaze appear less predatory, slowing his breathing to a regular level, trying not to give away the fact that from the second he walked into the room he was hard enough to pound nails. This wouldn't work if he couldn't get some control over himself.

Clearing his throat he watched in amusement as Dean jumped in surprise, pulling his fingers from their position between his legs and sitting up faster than Sam had ever seen him before in an attempt to cover himself as he looked toward the door, hoping to god that it was Sam that interrupted him and not the maid or some other faceless motel employee.  
Relief flooded Dean's features as he took in the familiar (and impressive) sight of his baby brother, his muscles already uncoiling as he lay back on the firm bed once more, smirk lazy and content even though his dilated pupils spoke of nothing but hunger.  
"Sammy. Was beginning to think you'd decided books did do it for ya after all and stayed at the library to jerk off over the history section".

"I don't know Dean, looks like you got everything under control here. Maybe I shoulda just stayed there and let you take care of this yourself? I wouldn't wanna interrupt."  
The words rolled off Sam's tongue lazy and unconcerned, just what he was going for as he rolled his shoulders, trying to stay relaxed for just that little while longer.  
His little brother may look and sound relaxed but Dean knew him better than anyone, could see that he was effecting Sam in the hint of steel behind his eyes. What he didn't understand was why he was trying so hard to hide it. Was this some game to him? some new little idea that he'd had? Well Dean didn't care for it. Right now he didn't care for anything that got between him and a dicking so deep he'd feel it in his throat.

"What? You're not happy? I thought that I'd speed things along a little, get us to the main event a little sooner" his husky drawl was accompanied by a wiggle of his brows that was a perfect example of the weird mix of sexy and dorky that only Dean ever seemed able to achieve and Sam felt his patience waning. Slowly Sam began to make his way to the bed, movements tight and controlled, steps prowling and even , not moving his eyes from the beautiful sight before him.  
The laugh that spilled from Sam's lips was full of exasperation and arousal and that, combined with the predatory way that his little brother was approaching him, had Dean clenching around nothing, grinding down into the mattress in an attempt to get /something/ inside him.

"You're so impatient. You ever think that maybe I enjoy being the one to get you all ready to sit on my dick?"  
It's the first time what they're about to do has been spoken about directly and, as always, Dean shivers with the pulse of shame and lust that washes over him. Examining their personalities side by side, it would seem an obvious conclusion that the elder Winchester was the dirty talker of the two, Dean had certainly always thought so. But what he'd thought and what he'd found out after actually experiencing Sammy in the bedroom were two different things entirely.

Sam loved to talk, loved to give form and voice to the dirty things they did behind the thinning curtains of motels nationwide. Loved to see the powder soft blush that heated his, previously shameless brother's freckled cheeks as he was forced to listen to Sam's commentary of his sluttier behavioural traits.  
It marked a change, bringing the situation out into the open like that, and Dean couldn't hold back a desperate little gasp as finally Sam sat down on the bed, leaning across and grabbing Dean's hips with huge, confident hands, manhandling him until he was on his hands and knees, ass presented to the room like that was it's place. Sam's question was all but forgotten as Dean focused of the thrill that shot through him at being put in his place in such an obvious way, being moved about like he weighed nothing and positioned exactly how Sammy wanted him. He'd be ashamed at how close he was to begging already if he wasn't already so far gone.

One large hand moves from Dean's hip, sliding down to cup a full ass cheek and squeezes firmly, getting a feel for the muscle and flesh there as though Sam hadn't done it a million times already.  
"I think its a little late to be testing the goods before you decide to buy, Sammy" Dean quipped. He's going for sarcastic but there's far too much naked desire there for it to be anything other than needy.  
Yet again Sam's response is proceeded by a dark laugh, tone sure and knowing  
"Always such a smart mouth, always think you know what's best. Well you know what? this time you got it wrong." As he speaks the hand still holding Deans hip comes down to grasp the other cheek, grip confident as he pulls them apart to expose his big brothers greedy hole, glistening with lube  
"You paint a pretty picture, sure, but in trying to hurry me all you've done is make the wait longer. I like being the one to open you up, to get you gasping and desperate, begging, and I know you like it too, you're just greedy... ain't that right?".

"Wow, Sam. You really like the sound of your own voice, huh? You think maybe you can skip the monologuing and get to the fucking part?" Impatience and the alcohol he'd consumed are silencing Dean's common sense. He knows Sam's mad, what he's not sure of is why but he's not going to play apologetic like Sam wants him to, he doesn't care what mood Sam's in just as long as he gets what he needs and the hands on his ass, Sams breath ghosting over his stretched hole, tell him that he's almost there.  
"Come on Sammy, you tellin' me you'd rather talk than fuck me?". Dean punctuates his words with a wiggle of his hips, the movement stilted by Sam's hands but the catch in his little brothers breath tells him that it still had the desired effect and Dean smirks over his shoulder, not at all worried by the narrowing of Sam's eyes and the tightening of his grip.

"Words never did work with you did they, Dean? You always need actions to set you right". Dean could physically cheer with the promise of action but any sound he would have made is cut off by the moan that bursts forth at the hot swipe of Sam's tongue directly over that tight little pucker of flesh, hands fisting in the sheets as he's finally given something more than his own fingers.  
Sam couldn't have held back the smirk at Dean's reaction to that single touch even if he wanted to. Just like he said, Dean was greedy. He'd been trying to skip past all of Sam's favourite parts and all he'd really achieved was making Sam want to draw this out for even longer. Focus in mind now Sam leans forward again, inhaling that dark, musky scent that was only his to taste and running his tongue over the ring of muscle again. This time Dean isn't the only one to moan. Sam hadn't been lying when he'd said that the foreplay was his favourite part. He could stay like this for hours, face buried in Deans ass, licking him open until the muscles were so soft and pliant that two fingers would slide right inside with no protest. And that's exactly what he intended to do today.

With a complete lack of hesitance Sam's tongue circles the impossibly tight hole, teasing until it's fluttering beneath his lips, trying to draw him inside and he allows it to happen, the sound of his blood pounding in his ears almost loud enough to drown out Dean's shouted curse as he fucks his tongue inside, closing his eyes and revelling in the knowledge that soon it'll be his dick buried in the beautiful clenching heat.  
A light sheen of sweat has once again broken out on the elder Winchesters freckled skin, his head hanging low, muscles trembling as he fights to keep himself up on his hands and knees as Sam tongue fucks him, relentlessly, for what could be hours for all that time means to him any more. He's lost track of anything that isn't the slick slide of skin against skin, the feeling of Sam's bruising grip as he uses his hands to keep Dean spread open and at his mercy.

"Sam, Sammy, please, I need" Dean's voice is a fucked out mess, hoarse from moaning already and they've barely even started.  
"Shhh I know what you need De, gonna give it to you, gonna take care of you" Sam sounds far more coherent than he has any right to, voice soothing as he strokes the smooth skin beneath his fingers, pressing a kiss to the pucker that's now sloppy with lube and spit. Surrendering to the pull of gravity, Dean drops his head as the effort of holding it up becomes too much. It feels like every muscle in his body is shaking with exertion but he's not going to completely give up on supporting himself yet, he's not weak and he wont allow himself to appear as so, even if it's just in front of his brother.

If Dean believed in any higher powers, he'd be thanking them right now as finally, finally, Sam slips a finger in alongside his tongue, the muscle giving immediately and opening up to the intrusion. Jaw aching from over use, Sam pulls back to watch as one long finger slides in right to the knuckle as though it belonged there and he supposed in a way it did. He and Dean were made for each other, two parts of a whole and they were always meant to end up this way. It was a bond that defied any social taboos, even defied the two of them trying to resist their pull to each other back when they were young and stupid and didn't realise that no matter what they did they were always going to end up this way.

"More, I'm ready" Dean pants, the hollow feeling in his gut feeling all the more urgent now that he's so damn close.  
Sam nods in reply but doesn't give Dean what he's asking for, instead setting up a lazy pace, fucking him slowly with a single finger.  
"Course you are, how many fingers did y'have in there before I got here? two? three?" Sam's tone is almost conversational but there's an edge there now, a tightness to his words that show's that he's pretty close to losing it too, no matter how hard he's trying to keep it together.

"Three" the word is more like a grunt, a plea, like Dean's trying to tell Sam exactly how much he can take without having to explicitly state it. Sam mentally notes that he's still got work to do if Dean's still coherent enough to try and hold on to his dignity. His big brother, when truly lost in the throes of need, is a sight to behold. All desperation and hunger and a complete lack of anything even resembling shame as he gives himself over to the pursuit of pleasure, willing to do whatever is necessary as long as it makes him feel good. It's a rarity, having a partner that devoted to satisfying his body and its needs, and Sam thanks God every single day that he's the lucky one that gets to keep Dean.

It's not until Dean's clenching down on his finger, trying desperately to keep him inside on every thrust, that Sam gives in and adds a second finger, scissoring and stretching with a thoroughness that isn't really necessary with how relaxed and open Dean's allowing himself to become. Using his position to his advantage Dean begins to thrust back onto those talented fingers, trying to force them deeper, to make them touch that ache inside him that's threatening to swallow him whole. It should be frightening, that Sam can reduce him to this quivering mess using nothing but his mouth and his fingers, but rather than scaring him, he finds it exciting. The fact that Sam knows just where to touch to make Dean fall apart is further proof of how well the younger knows him, proof that he knows Dean's body better than he knows his own.

Years could have passed when a third finger is finally added, and Dean's arms collapse from beneath him with relief, his moans muffled by the scratchy blankets pressing up against his face. Sam's free hand has long since slipped to cup himself over his jeans, trying to offer himself a least a little relief so that he doesn't lose his mind before they even get to the main event. Seeing Dean laid out before him, face down ass up, is a dangerous image and something that he knows he could easily become addicted to. He's never wanted anyone as much as he wants his brother and the intensity of it all is overwhelming. He's pretty sure they could do nothing but lights out, under the covers missionary and it would still be the best sex he's ever had in his life. There's always a spark present with Dean, something he didn't know he was missing until the first time they fell into each others arms and he realised just how much better sex could be.

Dean's not exactly quiet. Ever since Sam added the second finger he's been keeping up a constant stream of moans and incoherent mumbles so its understandable that it takes Sam a minute to notice that he's actually started speaking again, finding his voice to plead  
"Please, god, Sam I'm ready please just-" a high pitched moan cuts off Dean's ramble as Sam crooks his fingers finally pressing against his prostate and Dean swears that if he doesn't get fucked soon he's not going to last. There's no verbal reply. Sam doesn't trust his voice to stay even right now considering the desperation he's feeling, but he more than agrees with his brother. Dean's more than ready, they both are, and as much as he loves the foreplay, if he doesn't get some relief soon Sam's going to cream his pants like a horny teenager.

The whine that escapes from Deans parted lips is positively bereft as Sam withdraws his fingers, frantically searching the bed for the bottle of lube Dean had been using before he arrived. In his need Sam''s lost all semblance of control and he's just as eager as his brother, hands fumbling clumsily as he undoes his jeans (not even bothering to remove them) and pulls out his aching erection, slicking himself up as fast as he can possibly manage. After being so hard for so long without a single touch, even his own hand feels like heaven and he has to remind himself of what's waiting for him and stop touching himself before he loses it just like this.

The combined smell of their sweat is overwhelming now, both flushed red with heat and exertion and Dean's writhing on the bed, unable to keep still as Sam lines himself up, hands back in their starting place on Dean's hips as he guides his big brother back onto his dick until the blunt head of is sealed inside the ring of muscle, still impossibly tight even with all of the stretching and preparation. Sam wants to be slow, take his time as he should, but they've both been waiting for so long that slow is the furthest thing from their minds right now. Dean's fighting against his grip, trying to push backward and take him deeper even as Sam tries to keep a steady pace, sliding into that scorching heat until finally his balls come to rest against Dean's ass and he's buried fully inside his brother, exactly where he's been desperate to be ever since he knew that Dean was drinking tonight.

Dean's moan is one of pure relief. At last he can feel the burning stretch as his body tries to get used to being so full. He wants to push back further, wishes there was a way that he and Sam could stay like this forever but for now he's content to just breathe as they both take a moment to ground themselves so that its not over before it even begins. Yet again Sam's grip is tight enough to leave bruises as slowly he pulls back, withdrawing almost all the way before slamming home. He doesn't start gently, gentle isn't what either of them need right now, and the pace is punishing from the start.

After a few short thrusts, Dean gives up trying to push back, losing all sense of coordination as he lies there and takes anything that Sam gives him. His little brother is clearly too far gone to try and think about things like angles but every couple of thrusts he gets lucky, cock brushing against Dean's prostate and Dean's sobbing into the sheets, hands gripping so tight that his knuckles are white.  
They're not going to last much longer, the build up leaving Dean's skin over sensitive and every movement is charged. The slapping sounds of skin on skin are almost loud enough to drown out Sam's harsh grunts as he reaches around - long, confident fingers curling around Dean's dick where its hanging, hard and neglected, leaking so much precum that the blanket is definitely a lost cause. All it takes is one short caress before Dean's shouting, coming all over the bed and his own stomach as he clenches around Sam, the grip around him almost too tight and causing Sam's own vision to white out as he follows after his brother with a grunt, hot spurts of come soothing the hunger inside him better than anything else ever could.

Sam's tempted to just collapse forward, not caring if Dean is squashed beneath him as the pull of exhaustion is almost too much, but the thought of falling asleep and waking up stuck together with dried come is enough to banish that impulse and after a few moments of staying where he is, just breathing, Sam pulls out with a groan, rolling to the side and falling onto the bed next to his fucked out older brother.  
For a while the only sound in the room is their heavy breathing as they both try to calm down, sweat cooling on their skin and making Sam's clothes stick to him uncomfortably. He'll deal with that when he can remember how to move his legs again. For now just lying like this is nice, the peace that exists between them right now it unique to moments like this, both of them sated and comfortable, no need for words, just listening to each other breath and enjoying knowing that for now they're both safe - happy and alive.

Time has become fluid, seconds stretching into minutes and neither of them knows how long they've been lying there before Dean finally turns to face Sam, lips stretched into a cat that got the canary grin and says  
"That the best you got?"  
Sam's last thought before he loses himself in his brothers touch once again is that they're really getting too old for this.


End file.
